


What He Thought He Knew

by Renoku



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Crying Jack, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Valentine's Day, aster is basically a giant asshole, but he's sweet as well, jackrabbit vday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renoku/pseuds/Renoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My assignment for Jackrabbit Vday 2014!  I had jackfrostagain.</p><p>During Bunny and Jack's argument at the North Pole, Jack breaks down, and flees.  Aster follows him, only to find that he may know more about the sprite than he thought he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Thought He Knew

**Author's Note:**

> My assignment for Jackrabbit Vday 2014! I had [jackfrostagain](jackfrostagain.tumblr.com), who runs an RP blog on Tumblr. (They're really awesome, so you should go check them out if you don' already follow them.) My prompt was:
> 
> "i'd like some pre-slash hurt comfort ;v; during the scene where bunny brings up the fact that jack has no believers and he looks like he's about to tear up. i'd like jack to properly break down and bunny to do something about it.but if that's too specific, i'd just like anything that's a little bit on the angsty side~"

“But none of them believe in you, do they?” Bunny asked as he straightened up, facing the winter sprite.

Jack Frost only glared back, facing the Pooka head on, with the annoyed anger in his eyes bright and just completely welcoming to further attack.  With an evil smirk playing at his lips, Aster leaned forward.

“You see, you’re invisible, mate.  It’s like you don’t even exist.”

But even as he spoke, the words burned his tongue.  He knew what it felt like, so long ago that it was only a memory, but the feeling still weighed in his gut like an egg so rotten the explosion would put his own grenades to shame.

Tooth knew it too, and she quickly admonished, “Bunny, enough!”

So he backed off, but it didn’t stop the smug look he gave Jack as he stood.  He would’ve left it at that too, already on top of this argument, satisfied, and ignoring the wound he’d opened in himself. The memory of being alone for millennia and feeling nothing outside of grief and longing for almost an eternity struck heavily against his mind, but he could push it away, content with the sight of the sprite defiant and hurt before him.

And then the drongo had to go and speak up.

“No, the kangaroo’s right.”

Aster sputtered, reeled back into anger, and he stammered, “The, the what — What’d you call me?” He stalked forward, his ears rigid and his entire body tense.  “I am not a kangaroo, mate.”

The sprite had the nerve to feign surprise.  “Oh. And this whole time I thought you were.” He gave Bunny an once-over, and challenged, “If you’re not a kangaroo, then what are you?”

Before he even took the time to think, Bunny countered, “I’m a bunny.  The _Easter Bunny._ ”

_“People believe in me.”_

The moment the words left his lips, Aster regretted them.  But he only deepened his scowl, and tried to harden his gaze into something more superior as he glared into the defiant eyes of the winter sprite before him.

The icy blue pools fell back.  Aster bit his tongue when he saw the wall that formed in front of Jack’s eyes, as the boy looked down, just slightly, avoiding Aster’s burning gaze.  Tears began to well up beneath them, melting the ice with watery permafrost, ready to harden again.  But then Jack blinked, and the wall crumbled.

He took a shaking, fragile breath – Aster’s heart faltered at the sound, his ears flattening back against his skull – and straightened.  With a light gust of wind he was suddenly across the room, too for away from Aster with the distance like a chasm between them. The Pooka stood, and his anger fell away at the helpless way Jack’s staff hung at his side, and the boy bared himself to the world.  Shame weighed onto Aster’s shoulders, and he reached out a paw towards the sprite.

Jack flinched, even from so far away, and then he returned.  Immediately he brought up his staff in front of himself, and took another step back.

The sprite’s eyes flickered to North, and Tooth, and then down to Sandy.  “Sorry guys,” he stated, his voice muted even as he tried to hide it.  His gaze glanced up at the Moon through the skylight.  Then he glared directly at Aster.  “Find someone else for the job.”

Aster felt his heart twist painfully, the guilt pressing down on his harder than the past. “Jack, wait!” he exclaimed, but the sprite was already shooting out of the Workshop, tears staining his cheeks.

“Jack!” Aster cried. But it was too late; the sprite was gone.

A bitter taste filled the Pooka’s mouth as he withdrew his arm, and he wanted to curl in on himself, run away, and hide in the furthest corners of his Warren. But before he could even lift a paw to tap against the polished floors of North’s Workshop, the host of the meeting burst:

“Bunny! Look at what you have done!”

The Pooka winced, ears falling flat against his head.  “North, mate, I…”

“How are we to defeat Pitch now?  Manny says–”

At the mention of their leader, the anger inside Aster’s stomach flared once again. “I give a rat’s arse about what Manny has to say!” he shouted.  “We’ve defeated Pitch before on our own, and we’ll do it again, even without that clown’s help!”

“But Bunny, it is Manny’s decision, not yours!” the man protested, advancing with eyes wide and hands spread.

In return, Aster closed the distance to North’s personal space, glaring evenly at the Russian. “Yeah, well Frost went and made that decision himself, in case you haven’t noticed.  _We don’t need him._ ”

“I can feel it,” North announced, his voice solemn.  “In my belly.”

“You can take your crook gut and shove it up your–”

“Bunny!” Tooth broke in, shoving herself between the two males and pushing them apart. “There’s no point in arguing.” Her wings drooped a little, and she looked, for the slightest moment, scared.  Her violet eyes stared up at Bunny, wide and vulnerable. “What are we going to do?”

At this Bunny backed off, lost as well.  It was true; they had no plan.  But going by experience, they never had a plan.  Nevertheless, Aster pushed his uncertainty deep down, to cover over the guilt and memories like a veil.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he announced, sounding far more confident than he felt, “We’re going to find Pitch, and we’re going to put a stop to whatever the bastard’s up to before he can start it.”

The tinkling of golden sand rang in his ears, but then Tooth’s worrying returned, capturing his attention.  “But where is he? North said he only saw a shadow of black sand–” she broke off to order her fairies, “right mandibular first molar, New York, left maxillary lateral incisor, Rio; don’t wake the dogs – right, North?”

Startled by the break in her conversation, and then put off by the sudden question, North only sputtered out a response.  “Yes, yes, of course! It was giant, larger than globe!”

Another sound of golden Dreamsand tinkled through the air, and this time Aster turned to the little man.  Hope was beginning to bud in his chest, a dangerous thing so early.

“Sandy, do you know what that black sand could’ve been?” he asked bluntly, refusing to drag it out any longer.

The little man adamantly shook his head, and folded his arms, glaring furiously at Bunny. The small light in the Pooka’s chest suddenly went out, and he backed away, bringing his paws up defensively.

“What, are you still mad about what I said to Frost?  Seriously?”

A cloud of swirling sand whirled above Sandy’s head, and a few choice signs materialized into being.

“Mate, I don’t like that tone,” Aster growled, his voice dropping dangerously.

In response, Sandy stamped his foot.  Frustrated golden sand blossomed into the air, and the sandman pointed roughly at the open skylight.

Aster couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  “You want me to go _after_ the drongo? Now?”

The little man nodded quickly, jabbing his finger at the window once more.

Bunny scoffed. “No way, mate. Not on your nelly. I’m going after that sprite just about as much as I’m planning on failing Easter.  Which is never.”

“Bunny,” Tooth spoke up, hovering forward, “maybe it’s for the best.  Manny did say we needed him.”

The Pooka’s ears shot up in shock.  He took a moment, working his tongue just to make sure he could speak, and then managed to choke out, “What – Really?  You’re supporting him on this?  We have Pitch Black to worry about, and you want me to go make up with bloody Jack Frost? The irresponsible brat’s wasted enough of our time as it is!”

Tooth spoke calmly, “We have time, Bunny.  And the more help we have, the better.”

“You’ve got time! I’ve only got three days before Easter!” Bunny protested, gesturing wildly as he fought every instinct he had screaming at him to go make right and undo the shame curled in his gut.

“Bah!” North butted in, “You are always so worried about Easter.  Is not big deal anyway; why do you worry?”

At this Aster stood rigid, and cocked his head.  “Oh no, mate. We are _not_ starting this now.”

“Of course! So go after Jack, and we will figure out plan here.  Quick as bunny, yes?” The man laughed loudly at his own joke, folding his arms and ending the conversation.

“But–”

“Go, Bunny,” Tooth ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.  “We’ll get things done faster anyway if you’re not here… to argue with North, I mean.”

Aster sputtered, looking between the two, and then back down to Sandy.  The Dreamweaver only pointed once more at the window, after Jack, just as stubborn as the other two.  The last sliver of hope in Aster’s chest disappeared, and the Pooka sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered, tapping his foot against the ground.  When the tunnel opened on the hard wood, North began to protest, but Bunny cut him off, “Don’t.  Complain about the floor.”

“But,” North stammered, “But where will you look?”

“He’d be in Burgess,” he stated.  “Come get me if you need me.”

And with that, he dropped into the hole, making sure to let the tunnel close as smoothly as possible above him.

* * *

 

He surfaced on the outskirts of Burgess, in the forest, and just missed being trampled by a sprinting group of children.

“Holy–” he cried out, darting into the bushes just as a heavy boot clomped down right where his tunnel had been, and more importantly, his tail.

He took a moment just to control his breathing, wondering if one of the little ankle-biters had seen him.  But they ran on, oblivious to the Pooka’s presence, too focused on their game to notice anything else. Their shrieks of laughter carried through the woods, shaking the trees on a breeze.

They headed for the lake, frozen over even this late into winter.  Despite the nagging thought at the back of his mind to find Jack and finish what he came for, Aster felt concern for the rascals. This late into spring, the lake could melt any moment.  Against better judgment – always against better judgment it seemed to be more often now – he followed them, deciding that if the lake looked safe enough, he’d leave and find Jack.  If not… well, they had time.

The sunlight fell through the branches above, the pale light adding an early chill to the air. Bunny felt it bite through his fur, just a little, enough to keep him alert and on his toes. The wind caressed his lithe form as it darted between the trees, keeping to the convenient shadows that came along with the light.  He scented the air, catching brief flashes of the children, but then something else.

It smelled like snow, but not the violent, merciless storms Aster associated them with. No, instead it smelled softer, lighter on the wind than the usual blizzards.  The scent was clean and clear as crystal, and it felt familiar. It felt like Jack, and it came from up ahead.

As Aster neared the edge of the tree line, he noticed something off about the scent. It felt like a cloud, stifling the clarity of Frost’s usual nature, and yet it burned in his nose like sour earth and rotten eggs.  Cautious, he stalked forward, his body falling down into a hunch.  He padded forward on all fours, front paws light and ready to make a grab for his ’rangs.

It turned out he needn’t have worried, at least not about the children.

The little runts clambered about the ice, slipping and sliding with no mind to the potential danger. The laughed each time they fell, picking right back up without a care in the world.  Aster felt a rush of panic at the sight of a little girl, blonde hair striking in the sunlight, as she fell on her rump, her plastic fairy wings bending awkwardly beneath her.  But she pushed up on the ice easily, and with a wide grin that sent relief coursing through Bunny’s veins, she jumped along, only to slip again with another shriek of surprise.

The entire scene only felt right for the appearance of a lone figure standing at the edge of the pond.  Jack knelt down on the shore, gazing off into the distance.  He caught Aster’s eye almost immediately.

The boy’s shoulders were hunched, and a weary air surrounded him, tired and old far beyond his appearance.  His staff was propped against his shoulder, the flat butt of it against the ice. Aster looked closer at the sprite, to see his blue eyes dulled, staring at the children as they played. The sprite blinked, and his head tilted, lost in thought and some emotion that made him seem older than was right on the boy.

Aster suddenly placed the burning scent of salty tears, as one fell from Jack’s cheek, staining the earth just a shade darker.  The boy sniffled, and with his free hand he wiped his face, just for a moment before he resumed his lost watch over the children.

A yearning whine began in the back of Aster’s throat, coiling up through his chest and putting a bitter taste in his mouth.  He wanted nothing more than to rush out into the open and apologize, an urge he’d only ever felt a few times in his life.  But he couldn’t risk the children spotting him, so he stayed back, watching on with his eyebrows furrowed and throat tight.

Apologies or not, he needed to get to Jack.  The longer he spent here, the more time they waster searching for Pitch.

Just as he began to formulate a plan, a voice called out from the neighborhood nearby.

“Kids!” shouted a woman, “Time for lunch!”

“Coming Mom!” called back one of the children, the girl with the dark red hair and the white cap, her boots somehow managing to catch a hold on the ice.  “Race you back!” she cried to the other children, and dashed off.

With hooting laughs and joyful shouts, the rest of the children followed, darting off of the ice to follow.

But then the last child, the one with brown hair and wide, open eyes, slipped. He thudded down onto the ice, a pained grunt sounding out.  Aster winced, resisting the urge to go out and pick the boy up.  Jack noticed the fall as well, reaching a hand out. And yet, for some reason, he didn’t move, keeping his feet firmly planted on the shore.

Bunny narrowed his eyes at the sprite, and frowned.

Before he could react, however, the girl called back, “Jamie Bennett, hurry up!”

“C-Coming!” the boy answered, picking himself up quickly.  Laughing now, he ran to the edge of the lake, straight towards Jack.

When the boy passed through, Aster could see the breathless pain flash across Jack’s face. He seemed shocked, stumbling back on his feet.  But he kept his standing, leaning forward on his staff.  The tears in his eyes welled up again, and Aster looked away, unable to stand the bitterness that settled in his heart.

Yes, he remembered that feeling all too well, and the hopelessness that came with it.

When Jamie left, Bunny scented the air once more to check if it was safe.  He smelled nothing out of the ordinary, except for the large, looming cloud of depression that surrounded the winter sprite.

Cautious now, so as not to scare Jack away – that was the last thing he wanted, honestly – he emerged from the forest.  His paws padded softly on the earth, careful not to snap a twig during his approach.

What should he say? What would he have wanted someone to say to himself a thousand years ago?  And then Aster’s ears picked up the sound of Jamie hitting the ice, and he grit his teeth.

“Why didn’t you help him up?”

The Pooka kicked himself, but being the stubborn rabbit he was, schooled his angry gaze onto the sprite as he whipped around.  Jack’s eyes were wide and scared for a moment, shocked at the sound of the Guardian’s voice. But almost immediately, his expression dropped, closing off again.

“What are you doing here, Bunny?” he asked, standing up.

He removed his staff from the surface of the lake, and the moment the wood left the ice, a loud crack split the air.  The sound sent a piercing chill down Aster’s spine, his ears curling back.  He shot his glare at the lake, and then froze. The ice was broken, a deep ridge running across the surface.  As Aster watched, the surface began to crumble, opening up to the cold waters beneath. Some of the ice sank into the depths, pushed underneath by the weight of the larger sheets.

The Pooka’s ears fell, and he stammered, “I – you – what was that, mate?”

Jack only twirled his staff, flipping it up to rest on his shoulder.  He stood away from Aster, defensive, and his annoyance was clear.

“What do you want?” he demanded.  Even as he asked, he began to back up along the shore.

It made no sense, in Aster’s mind.  His eyes darted between the now melting lake, and Jack, and then to Jack’s staff. The sprite started to turn away, however, and Aster reacted impulsively.

“Jack! Wait!”

The boy paused. “What?” he asked. His eyes narrowed, and he accused, “If you’re here to convince me to help you, then don’t bother. Find someone else.”

Aster’s ears fell back. He glared at the boy, his temper rising again.  The things this sprite did to him–

He stopped, frozen for another moment.  “That’s… not it, mate,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady.  He didn’t want to think about that right now; he had a job to do. “I came… I came to say that I’m sorry.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and the boy straightened.  “What?”

Aster looked down, and shrugged.  “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have said those things.  That no one believed in you, and that… it wasn’t right of me, mate. I’m sorry.”

He looked up again at the sprite, and he found that every word he’d said, he meant them. He attempted to offer a smile, but then stopped.

Jack was crying.

The tears trailed along his cheeks, wet and freezing, and they stained his pale skin with a light sheen.  His eyes were rimmed with red and puffy above his cheeks.  In his grasp he clutched his staff like a lifeline, and it shook as he tried his hardest to hold it back.  His lip was captured between his teeth, biting back the pain.

But the sob escaped anyway, and Jack choked, covering his mouth.  The boy fell to his knees on the shore, as frost spread around him on the sparse grass.  His staff caught in his arms, hooking around his elbow awkwardly, but he ignored it, sniffling loudly through his tears.  In silence, the wind suddenly stopped, and Jack’s small whimpers echoed over the lake.

Aster’s heart felt like a dead weight in his chest, dragging him down through the earth. The sound of Jack’s cries hurt his ears with every pained breath that followed.  The Pooka clenched his paws, his blunt claws digging into his fists, and then he released.

“Jack?” he asked quietly, his voice small and hesitant.  “Jack, mate, are you alright?”

Of course he wasn’t. Aster took a step, unnoticed in the boy’s self-pity.  He took another, and shivered when his paw touched down on the frosted earth.

“Bloody hell…” Aster muttered under his breath.  He shifted his balance, to shuffle carefully over the iced ground. He called gently, “Jack – Frostbite…”

He reached the boy, and knelt down next to him.  Without thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around the sprite’s shoulders.

Jack went rigid. Frost shout out of his body like a bullet and covered the fur of Aster’s arms.  The Pooka winced at the flash of pain he felt, but then ignored it. His shoulders buzzed with a little numbness, and he pulled the boy closer.  He pressed Jack’s face into his chest, and breathed, his heartbeat steady as the earth.

The boy in his arms shifted.  He took a ragged breath, the air frosting again on Aster’s chest.  A pained whine sounded out, muffled in the fur, and he buried it in Aster’s ruff.  His body began to tremble, until he sobbed loudly.  Aster could feel the freezing tears on his fur, but he only ran his paws down Jack’s back, holding him tight.

“There you go,” he murmured.  “Let it out, Jackie, just let it out.”

He whispered these words softly, but his teeth were clenched in discomfort. He glanced down at the small form in his grasp, before looking out over the broken lake.

The black waters washed over the ice, dragging the large platforms underneath the surface. Aster’s whiskers twitched, and he hugged the boy even tighter.

The things this sprite did to him… Something so infuriating it hurt, and yet it gave him a rush of adrenaline, something more than the taste of battle. He’d fought enough battles. He needed the change.

After millennia alone, Aster knew how Jack felt.  The feeling of disbelief, of being passed through, as if one didn’t exist… yes, Aster knew that feeling all too well.  It felt like ripping heart out and then tearing the ties that bound it to his soul, before fitting it, torn and bloody, back into his chest, where it struggled to work again and function as if death had never happened. He knew those memories as well as the war that ended the Golden Age, and it hurt.

Jack’s sobs subsided after a while, and Aster hugged him tight once more, snuffling his hair, before releasing him.

“I’m sorry…” Jack started, wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeves.  His nose was red, odd on his pale face.  It looked almost cute.

“Ain’t anything to be sorry for, Frostbite,” Aster replied readily.  “We all need a good cry now and then.  Best to let it out before it bursts.”

Jack gave a dry chuckle, looking down at his thighs.  “We’ll, I’ve been holding that one in for a long time.”

It took a moment, but the boy seemed to connect his words with his mind, and he looked up. Blue frost spread across his cheeks in a rush, cooling down his face in a cold blush.

Aster only tilted his head, and then looked back at the lake.

“So…” he began, his voice a casual drawl, “You were keeping the lake frozen?”

The Pooka saw the sprite nod out of the corner of his eye.  “Yeah,” Jack answered, “it’s a little late for it to stay iced over, but the kids like it.”

Bunny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll talk with Mother Nature about it; get her to let it stay frozen until the summer?”

Jack’s head snapped up, and he stared at Aster.  “You – you mean it?” he asked.  Then his eyes narrowed. “Are you pulling my leg?”

Aster let his ears fall in mock surprise.  “Really? You think I’d do that to you, mate?”

Jack smiled, belying the red that still rimmed his eyes.  “Was that sarcasm?” he teased.  “From _you_?”

“Oh, rack off,” the Pooka said, shoving Jack lightly.

The young sprite laughed as he toppled over, and it became contagious.  Aster bent over his stomach as each loud guffaw echoed across the lake.

The two laughed in the world where no one else could hear them, the feeling of mirth building in their chests like a giddy drug.  The sound of Jack’s light laughter reached Aster’s ears over his own, and it sounded something close to heaven.

Aster decided he wanted to hear it more often.

They finally settled after a few minutes, Jack picking himself back up from the earth. He took his staff from his lap, setting over his shoulder with an air of ease.  He glanced at Aster, and smiled.

“Bunny…” he began, voice quiet.  “Thank you.”

Aster returned a small smile, and then opened his mouth to reply, when a loud whoosh of air suddenly burst into the forest.

A giant portal materialized in the air, and North’s sleigh rushed through.  With a crack of the reigns, the giant contraption crashed to the earth in what North deemed a normal landing.  The wood smashed into the shore, taking the rough landing like a champ, and the reindeer pawed the ground uneasily.

“Trouble at Tooth Palace!” North cried from the cockpit before either of the two spirits could ask. “Hurry!”

Jack and Aster exchanged a glanced.  The Pooka nodded, and approached the sled.

When he reached the vehicle, he looked back at the sprite still standing on the shore. Jack gazed at the sleigh, eyes lost, with his staff leaned over his shoulder.  Aster knew that stance as well.

“You coming, mate?” he called over.

The young boy snapped out of his thoughts, looking to Aster, with a question in his face. But his expression broke into a large smile, and he nodded.  A small laugh leaving his mouth, Jack Frost ran to the sleigh, and climbed in eagerly.

Aster knew a lot of things. He knew the feeling of the sleigh, and how much it made him want to be sick.  He knew the feeling of being lost, and alone.  But he knew the feeling of hope as well.  Smiling, he sat down next to the sprite that was bouncing giddily as North snapped the reigns.  What he didn’t know about the boy, well:

He loved the sound of Jack’s laugh, and hated the scent of Jack’s tears.

Those facts he knew for certain.


End file.
